


born on the 4th of july

by sunshinelatte



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fourth of July, Gen, Happy Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:26:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinelatte/pseuds/sunshinelatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Happy birthday, Steve.” Bucky whispers as he twines their fingers together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	born on the 4th of july

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/gifts).



> it's been a horrid week at work and I was suddenly overcome by feels when I realized it was 4th of july and I just had to write this. didn't come out quite as I expected, and I apologise for all errors. no beta.
> 
> I do no own the boys (though I wish I did)
> 
> this one's for sirona <3

_“… O'er the land of the free and the home of the braveeeeeeeeeeee!”_

The little kid warbles the final lines of the Star Spangled Banner and there is silence for a brief second in the stadium before the crowd breaks out in thunderous applause.

“Thank you for a beautiful rendition of our national anthem, Christine. Just because it’s Independence Day, we have Captain America throwing the first pitch!”

The crowd rises to its feet and roars as Steve runs out of the dug-out and turns around to wave. He slowly makes his way to the pitcher’s mound and stands there, for a minute, absorbing the sheer size of the Yankee Stadium. He’s come a long way since watching the Dodgers with Bucky, peeking through the fence, and Bucky dragging him past security and into the stands whenever they could.

He shakes his head to clear the memories, and feels the solid weight of the baseball in his hand, feels the satisfying “thunk” it makes as he throws it into his glove. He waves to the crowd again, steps up to the mound, and steadies himself before unleashing a straight, easy pitch to the Yankees catcher. A feeling of immense satisfaction creeps up on him as he walks back towards the dugout, high-fiving the team as they run out onto the field.

 

From there, it’s a whirlwind of appearances at parades, at functions, at barbeques, posing for photos, smiling, signing autographs, carrying babies, trying not to be horrified when he’s asked to sign various body parts and holding in his pee. Thankfully the serum gave him an enhanced bladder, he thinks to himself as he makes his way to the toilet, wiping sweat from his face. Whoever knew public appearances were almost as tiring as fighting aliens?

He’s washing his hands when he suddenly hears the “Star Spangled Banner” blast in the toilet, and starts. Damn, he loves that song as much as any American, but they play it to death every 4th of July. When he realises that it’s coming from his phone, he glares at it in fond exasperation as he sees Bucky’s face on caller display. Punk must’ve changed his ring tone for a joke again.

“Nice pitch, pal,” he can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice, even over the phone.

“If I do say so myself,” he grins back. Two can play at this game. “Were you admiring my pitch or my ass in those baseball whites?”

“Awww damn, you caught me staring, Rogers. Hottest ass in the the history of the Yankees, be a crime not to stare, eh?”

Steve can’t help the beginnings of the faint blush that spreads across his cheeks, and it seems as though Bucky knows, because the next words are teasing,” I bet you’re a beautiful shade of pink now, Steve.” _Damn_.

“You know nothing, punk. Anyway, see you when I get back, yeah. Don’t get into any trouble.”

“As if. See you, jerk.” He can hear the sarcasm in Bucky’s voice as he clicks off and splashes cold water on his face before squaring his shoulders and returning to the circuit of handshakes and photos.

 

He watches the fireworks explode over the Hudson River and marvels at their beauty while wishing for a familiar presence by his side. It’s been way too long since they both sat down on top of their dingy Brooklyn apartment, huddled together, watching the fireworks go off. More than half a century ago.

Deep in his ungrateful heart, all Steve really wants is a quiet birthday celebration with Bucky by his side. No need for first pitches at baseball games, or the being Star on the Captain America float at the Macy’s parade, or being on the front page of newspapers nationwide, or any of the  trappings of Captain America’s fame. Just two boys, left alone in peace.

But he made a promise to Erskine all those years ago, and he’s not about to break it, not after all they’ve been through. He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and applauds when it’s over, turning to face the crowds and sign more shields even though his hand is cramping, despite the super soldier that he is.

 

He directs the driver back to their Brooklyn apartment, feeling unable to deal with the usual chaos in the Avengers Tower right now after an entire day of cacophony and noise outside. The apartment is dark when he lets himself in, except for a flickering light, which he follows curiously. The light leads him to the bathroom, which has a Duke Ellington song playing softly and a warm bath ready.

There’s a message left on the mirror, he plucks it off, squinting to decipher Bucky’s messy scrawl in the dim light.

 

_‘Have a bath. Be back soon. Can’t wait to squeeze that ass –B’_

He grins as he quickly strips off and settles into the bath with a contented sigh.

 

**

 

When he hears the front door open, he pries himself out of the tub with some difficulty and dries off. Bucky meets him at the entrance of the bathroom door, face flickering in the glow of 95 candles _(seriously? 95 candles?!)_ and singing “Happy birthday” with a soft smile on his face instead of the usual characteristic smirk.

Steve smiles back, heart full of love for this boy, no, this man. They’ve been through more pain and sorrow than anyone ought to be allowed, yet here they are, celebrating his 95th birthday _(seriously, if there ever was good time for his brain to shut up, it was right now)_ together. Fate and the years couldn’t keep them apart.

“Quick Stevie, make a wish, the candle wax is gonna burn my hands.”

Steve suppresses his laughter, closes his eyes and interlaces his fingers as though saying a prayer, then blows out all 95 candles in one breath.

“Aww! Thought it might take you two tries, but I guess super soldiers can do anything.”

Steve grins as he leans across the cake and kisses the smirk off Bucky’s face. “Yeah, but I can’t shut you up, can I?”

“Oh, believe me Rogers, you couldn’t even if you tried. Now you gonna cut the cake or carry it out? My hands are gettin’ tired man.”

Steve takes the cake from Bucky, and as he turns to walk out, he feels a hand squeezing his ass. “Hey!” he complains.

“Can’t blame me for thinking of your ass all day, can you?”

Steve turns and winks at Bucky. “Purposely picked the tightest pair that fit for you.”

Bucky’s jaw drops and he hears a “Dayummmm, Steve” behind him.

 

 

**

  
They end up cuddled on the couch, Bucky’s head on Steve’s shoulder, eating cake and watching the Yankees thrash the Dodgers 16-3, Duke Ellington playing softly in the background. As Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head sleepily, he thinks that if this is as good as it gets for his birthday, maybe he doesn’t mind.

“Happy birthday, Steve.” Bucky whispers as he twines their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long time since I've lived in America and I've kinda forgotten what 4th of july is like, apologies if it's nothing like that!
> 
> was also overcome by all the baseball feels and if that part is jerky it was because I was sobbing while writing that /o\ 
> 
> comments (both good and bad) are adored <3


End file.
